


The Season Favorite

by GogoCoco



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Season 7 (RuPaul's Drag Race), Secret Admirer, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GogoCoco/pseuds/GogoCoco
Summary: “Okay, which one of you bitches took my stuff?” Trixie laughs, trying to keep his tone light. Let’s not panic. Luggage doesn’t just go missing. It has to be a prank from one of these hoes.“If I was gonna take anybody’s stuff, it definitely wouldn’t be yours, girl.” Thanks, Violet, very helpful. But seriously, where did his stuff go? It looks like everyone else’s luggage is still here and accounted for. What’s going on?“Just in case this is relevant, I saw someone move a few bags and suitcases from here to the Werk Room a few minutes ago” Max says in his weird London, Wisconsin accent as he picks up his own duffel bags. “Maybe they were yours?“Yeah, I saw them too,” Mrs. Kasha Davies adds. “I thought it was one of us moving their stuff in early…”“Dammit,” Ginger moans. “If some good samaritan was going to bring luggage in, I wish they’d taken mine… Why is it only Trixie getting the butler treatment?”While the other Queens bitch, moan and gather their stuff, Trixie hurries over to the Werk Room to check, and indeed, there they were.All of his bags and suitcases, neatly aligned by his station.Huh.---Or: Trixie gets a secret admirer on the set of Season 7.
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 70
Kudos: 167





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to the people who still aren't over how cute Trixie was on her original season!

**Week 1**

It’s 5 AM on the second day of filming.

Trixie sighs as he trudges along the short walk separating the parking lot from the Drag Race studio back entrance. It’s so cold, his luggage is so heavy, and it’s _so early_ in the morning. What happened to waking up at regular human hours? Is that not a thing in California? Back where he’s from, everyone makes a point of never getting up before 9 AM...

 _Is this culture shock_ , he thinks, looking at a moth fluttering by. Being dragged outside in the early morning sucks, but don’t get him wrong - he is thrilled to have finally made it to Los Angeles and to have miraculously been cast for Season 7 of the best (and only) Drag show on TV. It’s truly a dream come true. But right now, the only dream his sleep-deprived brain can think about is the one he was snatched away from by that hateful alarm clock. He could’ve karate-chopped the damn thing if it didn't mean risking having the reparation fee substracted from his already meager appearance rate.

“Hurry up, girl, you’re gonna make us late,” his friend Pearl calls from a few feet ahead.

Trixie sighs again. For someone who usually displays the energy of a sloth with a tranquilizer dart sticking out of their neck, Pearl seemed surprisingly awake. And so did the other Queens - they’re all walking ahead of Trixie in small groups, laughing and chatting excitedly, seemingly unbothered by the ridiculous amount of luggage each of them was carrying. Some have even made it to the studio entrance already. Where did they get all this energy? Was there a Red Bull dispenser back at the hotel that no one told him about?

Trixie starts thinking of yesterday’s filming session, which had been a lot kinder on his sleeping schedule. The shoot had started at a reasonable 10 AM, and he had been asked to bring only a change of clothes and some make-up for topping up throughout the day. The schedule had been light: 1) make entrance, 2) meet the competing Queens, 3) get brief of the first challenge and 4) film some confessional footage about introductions and first impressions. After that was done, the producers had thankfully called it a wrap for the day and sent them back to their hotel room at around 4 PM. Overall, the first day had gone pretty well for Trixie - everyone seemed chill, and most of all, his friend Pearl was there, and having a familiar face around is definitely a plus considering they are all going to spend basically day and night together for the next few weeks. Provided he didn’t get eliminated right off the bat, of course, but let's stay positive.

Trixie eventually makes it to the entrance of the studio, dead last. He struggles his way through the open door, trying to fit through the small entrance what feels like two hundred bags and five thousand suitcases. When he finally makes it through, a member of staff at the back of the room starts speaking. 

“Is everyone here?”, they ask in a loud and clear voice. 

Everyone nods. “OK, great. Welcome, ladies, and thank you for joining us this morning. My name is Ryan, and I’m here to talk you through the morning schedule. Filming will start at 7 AM today, and you will be given time to unpack your things and get camera-ready very soon. We still need to set up a few more things before you can settle in, so it would be great if you could leave your luggage in this room in the meantime. While you wait, don’t hesitate to help yourself to some breakfast in the room on your right, and we will call you back when everything is ready. Thank you!”

After a chorus of “thank you, dear”, the Queens start putting their luggage down to the side of the room as instructed. Trixie throws his in a corner with a sigh of relief and makes a beeline for the mentioned breakfast room, where lies the delicious promise of food and caffeine. He needs coffee like he needs air right now.

The breakfast room has been arranged into a decent reception area: aligned on a long table to the side are two hot water dispensers, a few baskets containing individual sachets of instant coffee/tea/sugar/cream, a large tray showcasing an assortment of breakfast breads, and a nicely arranged bowl of fruit. Three comfortable looking sofas have been laid out in a U shape in the middle of the room. Trixie takes a seat in the middle sofa, sugared coffee in one hand and a plain bagel in the other. Pearl comes to sit next to him with what appears to be a cup of herbal tea, and Miss Fame sits on his other side, sipping on a small bottle of plain water. Those skinny bitches.

“Way to make a girl feel fat”, Trixie jokes. 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Pearl drawls as he proceeds to rip a good half of Trixie’s bagel and chomps it whole. Trixie watches the betrayal unfold before his very eyes, mouth open in shock, too stunned to react. That was _his_ food!

“But more importantly, Trixie”, Miss Fame says, and Trixie turns his head to face him, mouth still open. “I was so gagged to see you here yesterday. Did you pass the audition with your usual makeup?” 

Trixie exaggerates a gasp and clutches at invisible pearls. “Wow, really? One eats my food, and the other calls my makeup ugly? Why do you guys hate me so much?” 

“Yeah, Fame, that was rude” Pearl deadpans, his mouth still full of stolen bagel.

“What?! But! It’s not what I meant...!” Fame replies in a panic.

Trixie snorts. He knew Fame didn’t mean to throw any shade with his question. They’d only met yesterday, but they had clicked so instantly that it felt like they’d known each other forever. They had shared some pictures of themselves in drag in the hotel last night, and Fame had been pretty vocal about his thoughts on Trixie’s usual mug. “ _I mean, I get it, it looks funny, but why do you cover up your natural features so much? You’d look so pretty with a proper face on_ ”, Fame had said with an encouraging smile, oblivious to the solid diss at Trixie’s makeup artistry wrapped inside the compliment. Trixie is well aware of how insane his usual makeup looks, so he’s stopped getting actually offended over the remarks a long time ago. But it’s always fun to pretend.

“Hey, the cameras aren’t rolling yet, so don't waste all your good reading material,” Mrs Kasha Davies says with a smile as he takes a seat to the left of where Trixie, Pearl and Miss Fame were sitting.

“Or at least give us time to get popcorn before you start the drama,” Tempest adds, sitting next to Mrs Kasha Davies.

They all laugh, except for Miss Fame, who was still struggling to understand what she said that was so wrong. Trixie gives his shoulder a squeeze to let him know that everything’s fine. Bless his confused soul.  
  


  
  


About twenty minutes and a second coffee later, staff member Ryan pokes his head through the door to speak.

“Hi again, ladies! The Werk Room is now all set and ready to welcome you - please pick up your luggage and start making your way there to unpack.”

With caffeine and sugar in his system, Trixie finally feels ready to tackle the day. He gets up from the couch, throws away his empty cup in the first bin he finds, and follows his fellow Queens out of the break room to go pick up his stuff. 

As soon as he reaches his destination, his stomach sinks.

His luggage is gone. 

Instead, there is a square of suspiciously empty floor next to thirty or so suitcases and bags that include none of his. He looks around the room to see if he might have somehow left it in a different corner than what he remembered, but no luck. There is no sign of it anywhere. What the fuck?

“Okay, which one of you bitches took my stuff?” Trixie laughs, trying to keep his tone light. Let’s not panic. Luggage doesn’t just go missing. It has to be a prank from one of these hoes.

“If I was gonna take anybody’s stuff, it definitely wouldn’t be yours, girl.” Thanks, Violet, very helpful. But seriously, where did his stuff go? It looks like everyone else’s luggage is still here and accounted for. What’s going on?

“Just in case this is relevant, I saw someone move a few bags and suitcases from here to the Werk Room a few minutes ago” Max says in his weird London, Wisconsin accent as he picks up his own duffel bags. “I didn’t see their face, though. Maybe the luggage was yours?”

“Yeah, I saw them too on my way to the bathroom,” Mrs. Kasha Davies adds. “I thought it was one of us moving their stuff in early…”

“Dammit,” Ginger moans. “If some good samaritan was going to bring luggage in, I wish they’d taken mine… Why is it only Trixie getting the butler treatment?”

While the other Queens bitch, moan and gather their stuff, Trixie hurries over to the Werk Room to check, and indeed, there they were.

All of his bags and suitcases, neatly aligned by his station.

Huh.

  
  


*

  
  


It’s now 10 AM, and everyone is foundation-deep into getting ready for the Spring and Fall Collection challenge. All the Queens are aligned in front of the long mirrors to do their makeup - some chatting away, some listening to music; some sitting, some standing; but all of them super focused on putting their game face on.

All of them, except Trixie, who couldn’t fight the urge to look over his shoulder every thirty seconds. Ever since he walked into the Werk Room this morning, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. _Well, duh,_ his inner voice snides - this room is absolutely packed with cameras, so _of course_ he’s being watched. Now by a dozen crew members, and later by millions of people around the world. But even knowing that, he can’t reason himself out of that creepy feeling, and it’s slowly driving him crazy.

“What’s up, girl? You’re so jittery, you’re making me feel anxious.” Pearl says, sounding more chill than ever and calmly applying his first layer of eyeshadow. 

“I don’t know”, Trixie sighs, trying to focus on his makeup. “Don’t all those cameras make you nervous? It feels like my every move is being scrutinized. It’s creepy.”

“Hey, don’t work yourself up so much” says Kennedy, who was standing two spots away from Trixie and carefully drawing her eyebrows. “You’re young and it’s your first time on television. It’s natural to be intimidated by the cameras on the first week. You’ll get used to it, hun.”

Trixie can only hope she’s right. As he turns towards Kennedy to thank her for the encouragement, he notices the Russian girl, Katya Zamo... something, also looking over at them from further down the mirror line with a frown on her now fully done face. Had she been listening to the conversation? 

Trixie hasn’t had a chance to talk to Katya yet, but just based on first impressions, he did find her a little... intimidating. She seemed like one of those polished, beautiful Queens that have it all together because they have been in the business for so long. And as someone who’s been doing drag for basically five minutes in comparison, Trixie found it difficult to approach her.

But seeing the concerned look on Katya’s face made Trixie reconsider his initial judgement a little bit. Maybe she’s relating to how Trixie’s feeling right now? He wants to ask, but Katya had set up her makeup station too far away for Trixie to be able to strike up a conversation without interrupting the three other ones happening between their respective positions. So instead, Trixie sends her a tentative smile.

In return, Katya sends him the goofiest, toothiest, dumbest grin he’s ever seen.

That was _not_ expected, and Trixie snorts so hard into his loose powder that it creates a massive white cloud that fills the whole area. 

“What the hell, bitch!” Of course, the neighbours would complain. They always do.

“Sorry! Oh, pardon me! Oops, my bad!” Trixie laughs as she fans the cloud of powder in everyone’s faces while they scream and recoil.

Trixie can hear Katya cackle joyfully through the shouty, powdery chaos. Maybe she’s not that intimidating after all.

  
  


*

  
  


It’s Elimination Day, and Trixie is now stepping backstage with the other safe Queens after the first runway. It hasn’t been easy, but her Barbie-like nude illusion somehow got her through Week 1. That’s goal number one ticked off the list.

Everyone’s choice of cocktails are waiting for them on a high table by the entrance. Trixie picks up her own non-alcoholic cranberry drink and makes her way to the U-shape sofa, choosing to sit on a corner off to the side, slightly away from where everyone else was sitting, but close enough to hear the ongoing conversations.

“I can’t believe you’d go for a mocktail when free alcohol is an option”, Pearl drawls as she walks up to Trixie, sipping on her gin and tonic. 

“But your dad already gets me all the free alcohol I need", Trixie replies with a fake pout. Pearl rolls her eyes and changes direction to sit with the rest of the group on the opposite side of the sofa. Oops. Was that too far?

Jokes aside, there is a real reason Trixie has decided to forgo alcohol today. Despite her best effort to snap out of it, she still feels eyes on her whenever she’s in the studio, and the last thing she needs is feeding her paranoia with booze. But Pearl doesn't need to know that - it’s all ridiculous enough as it is. And it’s been going on for days, now.

Around her, the other Queens are chatting about today’s runway looks, bitching about the judges and whining about their aching feet. Trixie’s trying to follow the conversation, but she can’t find the energy to really focus on what’s being said, nevermind chat along. Maybe it’s the lack of food in her system. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Maybe it’s the nerves. Most likely, it’s all of the above. She should have asked for a Red Bull instead...

Trixie snaps out of her thoughts when she hears her name getting dropped in the conversation.

“I wasn’t expecting so many fishy girls this season, though,” Tempest muses. “How many are there? There’s Fame, Kandy, Trixie…”

“Trixie? Fishy? Really?” Violet spits with all the disbelief she can muster.

“Oh, are we counting the clownfish too, then?” says Jasmin with a smirk.

Everyone starts laughing. Trixie laughs along too, not really because she finds it funny (it’s the millionth time she’s heard that joke), but because she knows acting offended had the potential to make the situation devolve into cheap drama, and she does not have the energy for that today.

Thankfully, the general conversation moves to other topics without any outburst and eventually splits naturally into smaller group chats of two or three people. Trixie finds herself being a passive listener to the conversation happening closest to her: Jasmin and Kennedy talking about American pageants and how rigged they all are. Snore.

She looks over at Pearl and Miss Fame, who are standing across the room from her, both of them absorbed in their own conversation. They are the two people in this place that Trixie feels the closest too, and looking at them having a great time without her is making her feel a little left out, which makes no sense since she isolated herself on purpose. How dumb is it to want to be left alone, but also want people to come and talk to her? What is she, an angsty high school girl? Ugh.

“Hey, sis, you OK?”, says a low voice right into her ear.

Trixie jumps. _Who the hell?_ , she thinks, turning her head to scowl at the offender.

Oh. It’s Katya.

She’s leaning over the back of the sofa Trixie is sitting on, wearing basically nothing but her long blond wig with red flowers on top, her smiling face way, _way_ too close to Trixie’s for comfort. When had she snuck up on her like that?

“I’m just missing my precious personal space, but otherwise, I’m great, thanks,” Trixie deadpans, edging along the sofa to put a bit more distance between her and Katya’s display of blindingly white teeth.

Katya laughs. “Sorry, sorry! But in my defense, I’ve been trying to catch your eye for ten minutes, and you were paying zero attention to me, so I had to be more direct in my approach.” As she says that, she jumps over the sofa to sit right next to Trixie with one more “sorry!”, seemingly determined to close up any kind of physical distance between them. And doing so basically butt-naked. _Apology not accepted_ , Trixie's inner voice supplies as she edges away again. Thankfully, Katya stays where she is this time.

“You’ve been really quiet, today. What’s up?” Katya asks, her eyebrows knit in slight concern.

Trixie looks at her, mouth agape. She hadn’t expected Katya of all people to notice her unusual silence, nevermind coming to check up on her. Trixie was surprised, but also a little touched. 

“Oh, it’s nothing much. I think I’m just having a hard time adjusting to being filmed all the time. Back where I’m from, it’s basically just me, three trees and one squirrel, so this is a massive change of environment for me.” Katya cackles at that, which makes Trixie smile. Her laugh is funny.

“Right?!” Katya says energetically, trying hard to empathize. “I mean, not the singular squirrel bit, Boston has so many of them, but the amount of cameras here is freaking me out big time, so I completely get it. But isn’t it weird, though? You seemed fine on day one of filming, and there were even more cameras then... I remember it because I saw you hitting it off with basically everyone and I was thinking ‘damn, she seems so fun, I wanna be friends too’ but then we didn’t get a chance to chat at all, probably because you don’t smoke while I spend 70% of my time on smoke breaks where I burn through three packs a day to keep the crippling anxiety at bay, but…”

Trixie just watches in wonder as Katya keeps on sharing everything going through her mind with startling honesty. Katya, as it turns out, is _light years_ away from the mental image Trixie had built of her based on first impressions. She’s not a haughty, intimidating bitch - she’s a relatable, anxious mess, and one with a surprisingly positive impression of Trixie too, which was a nice change from the ‘ _I thought you were such a bitch the first time we met, but turns out you’re all right_ ’ kind of feedback she usually gets from her peers.

Eventually, Katya’s tirade gets interrupted by reality catching up to them. “Hi ladies! This is your five minute warning. Please start getting ready for the main stage!”

Katya jumps up from her seat. “Oh shit, already? I completely fucked up my wig and makeup rolling on the floor earlier, so I should go fix that. Are you coming? Ah, no, wait, you don’t need to, you look amazing. Also, you need to let me borrow that lipstick, it’s _beautiful._ Talk to you later!”

And with that, she skips away towards the mirrors at the back of the room, where Ginger and Max are frantically powdering their noses. Trixie vaguely waves her goodbye from her seat.

... Well, that was a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Week 2**

“Trixie, honey, can you lend me some of your pink glitter? I can’t find mine”, Fame pleads from the opposite side of the table where Trixie has been working on crafting some jewellery out of paper and plastic.

“Sure, which shade?" Trixie asks, putting down her glue gun. "I've got baby pink, hot pink, fuschia, champagne or bubblegum.”

“No pastel pink? What a hate crime,” Pearl quips from the table behind her, where she's styling one of her blonde wigs. Trixie sticks her tongue out at her. Pearl loves making fun of how pink everything Trixie owns is, but it's not something she's going to apologize for. She loves pink. Sue her.

“Um... Whichever goes best with this blouse?” Fame replies, showing the hot pink blouse of the plane stewardess uniform they will all be wearing for the upcoming Glamazonian Airways challenge.

“OK, I got you. Just give me a sec.”

“You’re an angel!” Fame says happily, and she gives her an air kiss and a wink. Trixie can't help a smile as she rolls her eyes as she clicks her high heels towards her makeup station. The girl really knows how to get what she wants. 

It’s now Week 2, and Trixie and her team are adding the finishing touches to their look for today's main challenge. Being basically done with hers, Trixie finds herself with some time to spare, which she thought she would use to enhance her meager collection of accessories, but she might as well use it to help the other members of her team get ready a little faster. If it means they can make it in time for a last minute crash rehearsal, then she’s more than happy to act as a temporary errand girl.

Thanks to winning the mini challenge earlier this week, Trixie is finally starting to feel a little more herself and getting her head in the game, cameras and creepy feelings of being observed be damned. The trick was actually simple: focus on work, and forget the rest. And it’s never been easier than now, considering the sheer amount of things she has to get done in record time for both challenges and runways.

As Trixie arrives at her station to complete the Glitter Quest, she notices a square of paper folded in two poking out of one of her drawers. She extracts it out to inspect it; _"To Trixie"_ has been written on one side, confirming it wasn’t some stray receipt that got stuck there, but well and truly something she was meant to find. Could this be a note Tempest has left for her before leaving last week? They did get along well for the few days she was here, so it’s not entirely inconceivable, but it is a little surprising.

Curious, Trixie opens the folded paper to reveal a neatly handwritten note:

> _You’re not a clown.  
>  _ _You’re the cutest one here.  
>  _ _They’re just jealous._

_Weirdest haiku ever_ , is the first thought that goes through Trixie’s mind. She’s pretty sure Tempest doesn’t do haikus, and as a happily married man and father, he probably doesn’t write mildly flirty messages to boys half his age either.

“Oh wow, someone’s got a crush”, says a familiar low voice from somewhere around Trixie’s right shoulder.

Trixie jumps embarrassingly high and snaps her head around to see who almost gave her a heart attack.

Oh. It’s Katya. _Again._

“You need to stop doing that,” Trixie wheezes out, her hand above her heart as the universal sign for _you fucking scared me, bitch._ At least, Katya's outfit involves more fabric today than it did last time. Small mercies.

“Sorry! But I’ve been standing here for a solid minute, so it’s also a little bit your fault for failing to notice my existence. Anyway, what is this? A note from the departed?”

“I don’t think so,” Trixie replies, looking back at the note in her hand. “Hey!” she continues, turning to frown at Katya who still had her eyes glued on the note, “don’t read over people’s shoulders! Rude much?”

Katya cackles. “Sorry! But I had to know what made your mouth hang open like that. Blame the curiosity, not the cat.”

Trixie immediately closes her mouth she hadn’t realized she had opened and narrows her eyes at Katya, who simply smiles in return.

“Anyway,” Katya continues in hushed tones, her hand wrapped around one side of her mouth like she was sharing a secret, “who do you think it’s from? It has to be from someone here, since we’re not allowed messages from outside…”

Trixie starts to think about who here may have written this, and it doesn’t take her too long to guess. There is only one person in this room she can think of who would be both this flirty and feeling sorry for previous comments made on her “clown” makeup.

“I think I know who it’s from,” Trixie says with a smile.

“Oh really, now? Who is it, then?” Katya asks, barely trying to hide the eager look on her face.

“You’re so nosy! Why do you want to know?”

“Tell meee!” Katya whines, flapping her arms like a baby, which makes Trixie laugh. She’s so weird. 

“Fine. I’ll tell you who it is, but only if you _nail_ the lip sync today. You sucked balls at rehearsal yesterday, so get some more practice in now while you still can.”

“But sucking balls is what I do best,” Katya replies with a fake pout. Trixie dignifies this answer with an unimpressed upward stare, but it does nothing to stop Katya from looking extremely amused with herself.

Eventually, Trixie’s stare wins, and Katya caves in. “Fine, I will practice immediately, Great Commander”, she says with an exaggeratedly deep bow. She picks up the iPod nearest to her, whacks the buds in her ears and starts strutting away to the rhythm of the song. Trixie is pretty sure this is someone else’s iPod she just grabbed, but oh well, whatever works.

After she’s gone, Trixie puts away the note in her top makeup drawer, picks up the appropriate shade of glitter she came to fetch and walks back to the table to hand it to Miss Fame.

“Yes, that’s the one! Thanks, honey, you’re the best,” Fame says as she gives her a short one-armed hug around the waist.

“And also the cutest,” Trixie replies with an exaggerated wink. She’s certain the note came from Miss Fame; she can totally imagine her being worried over Trixie getting hurt by that clownfish joke that was thrown around the other day, especially after Miss Fame had (accidentally) made similar comments herself prior to that, so maybe she decided to leave her a discreet nice message to make sure they were okay. Trixie really appreciated the gesture, and wanted to let Miss Fame know that her kind words had been gratefully received.

Miss Fame’s reaction, however, is not the one Trixie expected. First, she frowns, then she looks up as if in thought, and then she looks back at Trixie with an awkward laugh. Okay, so she did not get the hint. Trixie opens her mouth to thank her more straightforwardly, but she’s interrupted by a panicked Jaidynn rushing to their table.

“Have you guys seen my iPod?! I’d left it right there and now it’s gone!” she cries, pointing at the table where Trixie knows there was indeed an iPod minutes ago.

Trixie has to repress a smile as she sees Katya shaking her booty right behind Jaidynn, stolen iPod in hand. The nerve of that girl.

“I’ll lend you mine”, says Trixie, and she motions Jaidynn to follow her. She didn’t mean to help a girl from the opposite team, but she feels somewhat responsible for her technical difficulties.

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver!” says Jaidynn, bouncing behind her.

  
*  
  
  


Trixie follows everyone backstage on slightly shaky legs. She is safe, thank God, but she had to leave a fair chunk of her team on the main stage to get critiqued, including Miss Fame and Katya. Statistically, there is a good chance that at least one of them will be in the bottom two, and as team leader, she can’t help but feel responsible. Maybe she should have distributed the roles differently? Or helped them a little more with their routine?

Trixie tries to shake away these thoughts as she grabs her lemonade and goes to sit on the poorly padded sofa with the other girls. It’s no use worrying about it now. What’s done is done, and not all odds are unbeatable. Maybe they will both come back safe. Please let them both come back safe.

“You look worried. Are you OK?” asks Pearl, sitting next to her.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” Trixie replies with a smile, not really wanting to get into the details of it. She knows what Pearl would say if she opened up about what was going on in her head. _"It’s a competition, don’t waste your energy worrying about others, insert other valid advice here, blah blah blah”_ . If Trixie could, she would, but as a famous philosopher said, _I can’t help the way I feel, wo-oh_.

“I like your runway look, today”, Pearl continues with a smile. It’s probably a lie, considering her Barbie Space Stewardess look is miles off Pearl’s usual taste in drag, but Trixie appreciates the attempt to cheer her up anyway.

“I like yours too”, she replies. “Your boob contour is phenomenal.”

“Oh my god, I was going to say!” Jaidynn says as she barges in their conversation. “You need to teach me how to do that!”

As Pearl and Jaidynn discuss titty makeup techniques (or “tit-niques”), the top and bottom Queens start trickling in backstage. Trixie scrutinizes the expressions of her returning team members to try and pre-assess where they stand. Violet is smiling confidently (looks like she’s in the top three), Fame looks neutral (hopefully this means good news), but Katya looks positively _haunted_ (...Oh no).

As everyone start discussing what had just happened on stage, Trixie tries to catch Katya’s eye, but her spirit seems to have left the chat permanently as she keeps mindlessly sipping at the slowly melting ice cube at the bottom of her drink through a straw, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. When she finally realizes her glass is empty, she stands up and makes a beeline for the backdoor. Smoke break.

“Hold my drink?” Trixie asks Pearl as she pushes her barely touched drink in her hand and gets up from the sofa to follow Katya outside. She hates the smell of smoke, but she hates the thought of Katya going through a phase with no one to talk to even more. She’s been there.

“Hey girl, mind if I join you?” Trixie asks as she closes the backdoor behind her.

Katya turns around to look at her, lit cigarette already in hand. “I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t, it’s not my aesthetic” Trixie declares as she pretend-flips her solid blonde wig. Katya smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“What did they tell you?” Trixie asks.

“What did they not tell me,” Katya replies with a weak laugh. “Basically, I completely fucked the lip sync. Like, _completely_ completely. And it's my own fault - I was... distracted. And now, I’m 100% lip-syncing for my life tonight and God knows whether I’ll survive considering how shit I was at it today.”

“But I heard they loved your runway, so that might save you,” Trixie says in an attempt to console her. She tries to rub her back to show empathy, but Katya suddenly jumps away.

“Don’t touch me,” she says curtly.

Trixie immediately draws her hand back, surprised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No no no no, it’s not you!”, Katya hurries to clarify. “It’s just that I have this thing where unexpected touches make me inconsolably horny, and I don’t want to go back on the mainstage with a tucked boner again. It’s so uncomfortable.”

Trixie gapes at Katya, amazed by how easily she can blab all these truths about herself with no hint of shame whatsoev... Wait, did she say “again”?

“Also, don’t look at me with your mouth open like that, it’s not helping my situation,” she says, looking straight into Trixie's eyes, then at her mouth, then back at her eyes.

Trixie snaps her mouth shut, thankful for her multiple layers of makeup hiding her increasingly blushing face. She racks her brain to find an adequate comeback, but comes up empty. It’s so easy to flirt back and forth with people like Fame, because they both know it’s a game, but she has no idea where she stands with Katya. Was she messing with her?

They keep looking at each other for a few seconds, until Katya finally bursts out laughing. 

“I’m just kidding!” She says, smiling. “I mean, I still can’t recommend touching me, I’m the sweatiest woman in the business, but you can if you know the risks. And I don’t mind your mouth being open all the time, it makes you look like you’re amazed by everything I’m saying, and I kind of love that,” she adds with a wink.

Trixie closes her mouth again (when had it reopened?) and narrows her eyes at Katya, who’s laughing even harder now. She feels called out, and she doesn’t like it.

“I don’t remember coming here to get teased,” Trixie mutters with her arms crossed. “Is this how you treat your friends when they come to cheer you up?”

“Wait, ‘friends’? But I thought this was a budding romance!” Katya says, her hands coming up to her face to frame her look of fake shock.

Trixie smiles. So she _is_ messing with her.

“Ew, I don’t date crossdressers!” Trixie jests back, faking disgust.

Katya cackles as she stubs her cigarette on the concrete ground. “For real, though, thanks for coming to talk to me. It helped. You should go back inside, though, you don't want to miss out on all the juicy drama that's probably unfolding there. And I have to practice this damn lip sync.”

Trixie nods and starts making her way back inside. As she opens the backdoor, she stops briefly and turns around. 

“Hey,” she calls. 

Katya turns to look at her. 

“You’ve absolutely got this. And if you don’t believe in yourself, just believe in the me who believes in you. Or whatever.”

Katya raises an eyebrow. “Was that a Spiderman quote?”

“No! You uncultured swine!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Week 3**

“I hate this runway theme… I didn’t become a Drag Queen to slap a goddamn beard on my face,” Jasmin moans to no one in particular as he stomps through the Werk Room.

Trixie silently agrees. Thank goodness his team did well enough on the Shakespeare challenge this week, because he is not really feeling the fantasy of walking down the runway with a full on beard. That being said, and looking on the bright side, it was the perfect theme for Trixie to find a use for those old brown wigs he’s never had the heart to throw away. He would much rather avoid wearing them with a regular outfit if he could help it, so making a mane out of them to create a Jesus inspired look seemed like the perfect recycling plan. Wearing a different wig color should also be a good way to show versatility to the judges, or whatever they said you needed to do to win this competition.

As Trixie kneels down to rifle through his luggage in search of his wigs, he notices something glinting out of the corner of his eye. It looks like it comes from the top of his makeup drawers, which strikes him as strange.

 _Did I forget to put something away?_ Trixie wonders. This is an important question, because Trixie found out the hard way that keeping everything inside his drawers was a necessity to protect his stuff from the sticky fingers going around the Werk Room. _"Oh, I’m so sorry, girl, I thought this was my $85 Georgio Armani foundation, I didn’t mean to take yours! I wish you told me sooner, because I used half the bottle already, teehee! Sorry, girl, honest mistake!"_. Those bitches can’t be trusted, which is why Trixie now always makes sure not to leave any of his stuff laying around anymore.

Anyway, whatever this foreign item is, it probably isn't Trixie’s. Maybe someone forgot it there? He stands up to check.

The item looks like a flat jewellery gift box covered in pink glitter, with a little square of paper saying _"For Trixie"_ taped on top of it. Trixie picks it up to give it a closer inspection, when...

“What’s in the box?” asks an unmistakable low voice from right behind him.

Trixie knows better than to jump now. Instead, he takes a deep breath before turning around to face his interlocutor. 

Aaand it’s Katya. Of course it is.

Just like Trixie, Katya is still out of drag, wearing a casual striped shirt, jeans and a colorful headband to keep the hair off his face. He always looks strikingly different without makeup, but his trademark bright smile and infuriating tendency to sneak up on people seem to be forever unchanging.

“For once in your life, can you strike up a conversation from somewhere that is not behind my back, like a normal and polite human being?” Trixie sighs.

“But I love your backside,” Katya replies with a big smile as he steps around to stand next to Trixie.

“And I love being alive, so stop giving me heart attacks,” Trixie retorts. He means to be curt, but he can’t stop the smile creeping up on his face. Why is he always so easy? “Speaking of heart attacks, how did your play go, yesterday?”

“Oh my god, don’t remind me,” Katya grunts out with an eyeroll. “Imagine a train wreck, but then a plane crashes on top of it, and then a nuke, and then the sun itself, and then Shakespeare comes back from the dead to spit on all of it.” 

“So… awful?”

“AWFUL. But hey, what’s done is done, and also, why are we even talking about this when there is a literal mystery box right here to investigate?” Katya replies, obviously eager to get back to the initial subject. He steps closer to look at the glittery package with wide, curious eyes. “So, what’s in the box?” 

“Hopefully not Shangela,” Trixie replies absentmindedly as he inspects the outside of the box for any clue that might indicate who it’s from. He finds nothing.

“Are you going to open it?” Katya asks, his eyes moving from the box to Trixie’s face and back to the box. He’s gotten so close now his shoulder is grazing Trixie’s. “Come on, open it!”

“Fine, just to shut you up”, Trixie replies with fake annoyance as he takes the lid off the box. 

Inside is a pair of large golden earrings encrusted with expensive-looking green jewels. They look absolutely stunning, but...

“I hate green,” Trixie mutters, thinking out loud.

Katya laughs. “Wow, contain your joy, girl. People might think you got gifted your creepy uncle’s toenails with the face you’re making.”

“I mean, they’re really nice, but I…”

Trixie lets his sentence trail off as he notices the handwritten note on the inside of the lid. Katya follows his gaze to also read the message. 

> _Some green earrings_ _  
> _ _for your adorable ears.  
>  _ _May they be useful._

“I think they misspelt ‘Dobby ears’,” Katya concludes, narrowing his eyes at the message with a hand on his chin in fake thoughtfulness. 

“Oh my god, you dare!!!” Trixie scream-laughs as he pushes Katya, who cackles along while grabbing Trixie’s arm.

“I do dare! Someone’s gotta bring you down a notch before all that fanmail gets to your head,” Katya says, still laughing. “Anyway, it looks like this gift is from the same person that left you that creepy note last week, doesn’t it? Isn’t that interesting?”

“It wasn’t creepy, you’re creepy,” Trixie retorts with a frown, feeling a little defensive of the note he got from his friend. “And what makes you think they’re from the same person, anyway?”

“Same handwriting,” Katya replies with a shrug. “And I never said I wasn’t creepy,” he adds matter-of-factly. 

Trixie opens his mouth to say something back, but closes it again. Was it really the same handwriting? He can’t remember…

He opens his top makeup drawer and fishes out the first note to have a look at it again, and sure enough, Katya was right: the handwriting was extremely similar on both messages. But that made no sense… The first note was from Miss Fame, and even though they’re good friends now, they’re still competing against each other, and he doubts she would give away free jewellery to a rival. Also, not even his ex-boyfriends ever got him anything this nice, so why would she even? It just didn’t add up.

“How did you even notice that?” Trixie eventually asks in wonder as his eyes still go from one note to the other, comparing the two identically neat handwritings.

“How did you _not_ notice it? As ever, Trixie, you see but do not observe.”

“... Was that a Spiderman quote?”

“No! Who’s the uncultured swine now?”

  
  


*

  
  


Trixie throws herself down on the backstage sofa with a sigh of relief. The runway is done, the Shakespeare challenge has been won, and she is safe this week. She’s exhausted, and also a little bit too warm all wrapped up in the mane of her wig-beard-headpiece combination, which makes her regret not picking up her refreshment at the table before flopping down on the first seat she could reach. The drinks are only a few steps away, but with all the fatigue and laziness she’s experiencing, they might as well have been on the other side of a mountain.

Salvation arrives in the form of Miss Fame, who joins her by the sofa with a drink in each hand. “I saw your mocktail lying abandoned on the table, so I brought it over,” she says as she hands the tall glass to Trixie.

“You are a literal angel,” says Trixie, gratefully accepting the drink.

“Anything for you, babe,” Fame replies with a wink before taking a seat next to her.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Trixie asks Miss Fame in a quiet voice, quickly glancing around to check that no one else was listening. Ginger Minj, Mrs Kasha Davies, Max and Jaidynn were chatting loudly and congratulating themselves for a job well done on the other side of the sofa without paying them any particular attention, and most of the cameras were focused over there, so now seemed like a good time to broach the subject that’s been on her mind since this morning. She probably knows the answer already, but she has to make sure.

“What is it?”, Fame asks, cocking her head.

“Did you leave anything on my makeup station, recently? Like a message, or a box?”

“Ummm,” Fame says, thinking. “Definitely not a message, no. But I did return that glitter you lent me, if that’s what you mean by box? I left it on top of your makeup bag.”

“Oh, OK. Thanks for that,” Trixie replies with a half smile. That confirms it: neither the note nor the earrings came from Miss Fame. She’s been suspecting as much since Katya pointed out both probably came from the same person, but she has been trying hard not to think about alternative theories, because Katya was also right on another point: anonymous messages and presents _are_ a little creepy...

“Why do you ask?” Fame asks, now intrigued. “Did someone leave you a message?”

During the split second it takes her to reply, Trixie ponders whether she should fill Miss Fame in or not. On one hand, she’d rather keep it to herself so that her story doesn’t make the headlines of the local Daily Gossip, but on the other hand, Miss Fame is a good friend and Trixie could really use an ear. “Well…” 

“Hey, Trixie,” Ginger suddenly interrupts, turning her chubby body around to face her. “What’s the deal with you and Katya?” 

The question catches Trixie off guard. Where did that even come from? She looks at the other Queens, expecting them to look as surprised by the sudden question as she is, but instead, they’re all looking at her expectantly, waiting for her answer as if they had been wondering the same thing themselves. And that included Miss Fame. Have they all been talking about her and Katya behind her back? 

Trixie takes a beat before replying. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, she’s always either talking to you or about you, so I wanna know what’s up,” replies Ginger. “‘Cause I’m looking out for her. You know, as a friend.”

“A friend who got her advances rejected,” mutters Jaidynn as she takes a noisy sip of her cocktail. Ginger glares daggers at her, and Jaidynn suddenly looks impossibly fascinated by the inside of her tumbler glass.

Eventually, Ginger turns back to Trixie. “Well?”

“Well, nothing’s up, we’re friends,” Trixie answers with a shrug, completely truthfully. “We just chat and joke around...”

“And flirt,” Ginger interrupts with an accusatory look.

“For _jokes_ ,” Trixie replies curtly, starting to get annoyed. _Of course_ the flirting isn’t real, and Ginger is either being stupid for thinking it’s serious, or she’s just trying to create drama for the cameras by exaggerating everything.

Trixie doesn’t have a particularly bad self-image, but she’s realistic enough to know that Katya wouldn't take a serious interest in her. She’s a beautiful Queen from the city, and Trixie’s a bumpkin from the country. That’s why their flirting is funny: because it’s obviously a big joke. And anyway, Katya had made it clear that she was “just kidding” when they talked the other day on her smoke break, so even if Trixie had harbored any kind of hope or suspicion that part of it might have been real (which she totally didn’t), they would have been completely squashed that day.

Before Ginger can say anything more on the subject, some angry voices start filtering from the corridor leading to the main stage, which thankfully draws everyone’s attention away from Trixie.

“I didn’t throw you under the bus, I just stated the truth,” says Violet’s snippy voice.

“All I’m saying is, what you did wasn’t very team spirited,” Kennedy’s voice answers slowly as she and Violet round the corner and come into view, silently followed by Jasmine, Kandy, Pearl and Katya.

Visibly too annoyed to form up a verbal answer, Violet just rolls her eyes as she picks up her drink and joins the other Queens on the sofa, who have now turned their full attention to this new unfolding drama. 

“So what happened on stage?” Jaidynn asks as she perks up from where she was lounging, poking for gossip.

The question sparks a long argument between Violet and Kennedy, with everyone chiming in with their own opinion on whatever the issue is. Trixie is only half-listening, her conversation with Ginger still fresh on her mind. Did everyone really think she and Katya had a thing going on? As she thinks that, her eyes reflexively go to where Katya was sitting, and she startles when their eyes meet. Katya’s slight frown immediately transforms into a bright smile, which Trixie returns. It's amazing how even a Lincoln beard glued to her face couldn't hide take anything away from her beauty.

As the thought crosses her mind, Trixie’s smile falters a little, and she eventually looks away, making bubbles with her drink.

_This is not helping the rumors..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Week 4**

“Oh my god, can you shut up?” 

“I’ll shut up when you shut up!”

Trixie feels the need to close his eyes and massage his temples for a second. This isn’t going to do.

Yesterday, he sincerely thought that he had made the best decision ever by teaming up with his friends for the upcoming music video challenge. 

Yesterday, he had been so sure that working with friends would be the easiest thing in the world.

Yesterday, he had been so young. So naive. So _stupid_. 

But today, it has become clear that joining a team with Pearl and Miss Fame was _not_ the play. At all. But how could Trixie know that these two would butt heads the whole goddamn time? Not that it matters now that they’re stuck in the same team, because the fact remains that they do, and it’s slowly draining the very little patience and energy that Trixie’s overworked brain still had. Writing and directing a parody music video from scratch is challenging enough as it is without having to play mediator on top of everything. 

Trixie wants to scream, flip a table, punch a mannequin, anything to relieve all that built-up stress. But the team can’t afford to have their leader lose it, so he settles for grinding his teeth and waiting for their fight to blow over. If it ever does.

After what feels like a lifetime, Pearl and Miss Fame finally end their argument by crossing their arms and looking away from each other with a “humpf!”. Katya, the fourth member of their little group, looks between all three of them, seemingly unsure of what to say to defuse the situation and probably regretting not choosing to join a different team (and who could blame him?). Trixie is too wired up to even try to do anything about it and selects to keep his eyes down on his notes instead. Or more precisely, his singular note, since they’ve only managed to come up with the title of the song after over an hour of being handed the challenge. Meanwhile, Max’s group is already rehearsing their lines just a few feet away from them. This is bad.

“Whatever. I’m going to the bathroom,” declares Miss Fame as he stands up from the sofa they were sitting on and exits the Werk Room, nose held high.

“And I need a smoke,” says Pearl, standing up soon after. “Katya, you coming?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Trixie can see Katya look at him briefly before replying “I think I’m okay for now.”

“... Okay,” Pearl replies slowly. He gives Katya a slightly incredulous look before glancing at Trixie and finally turning around to head for the exit without any more remarks.

As soon as he disappears around the corner, Trixie finally lets out the massive sigh he had been holding for the past hour and falls back on the sofa, closing his eyes and putting his hands over his face. 

He can feel Katya looking at him. He’s probably expecting him to say something about the situation, but he doesn’t trust himself to not say anything he won’t regret later.

Eventually, Katya breaks the silence. “Hey, if you need to vent about anything, now is a good time to do it. I’ll listen.”

Trixie sighs again and considers the offer. He does desperately need to vent, but he also needs to choose his words carefully.

“Well, I think we’re fucked,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead with his hands. “We’re never going to get anything written in time for recording if every little tiny thing becomes a fight. We might as well give up on the challenge altogether and use that time to practice directly for the lip sync instead. It would be more efficient and less soul-damaging.”

After saying that, Trixie feels a hand gently squeeze his knee. He finally opens his eyes and sees Katya looking at him with a reassuring smile.

“Hey, believe it or not, but we’ve still got time to come up with something good, so let’s not give up yet. I’m sure the girls will be more cooperative once they’ve cooled down, too. In the meantime, we can try and find a few funny rhymes, and then go from there.” After a beat, Katya continues. “What do you think of ‘ _I wanna feel the heat on my sizzling meat_ ’?” he asks, wiggling his shoulders in time with the line.

Trixie snorts. “Love it,” he says with a smile as he straightens up and jots down the very first useful contribution of the day. “Thank god you’re here,” he thinks out loud.

“Wouldn’t dream to be anywhere else,” Katya replies with his usual flirty smile.

“Gay,” Trixie jokes back on autopilot, although he can feel himself blush and uncharacteristically avoid Katya’s eyes. Their friendly flirting has been hitting a little differently since his conversation with Ginger last week, and the non-stop-ness of the competition hasn’t given him time to really sit down and think about what it all meant. This was still just a joke… right?

“Okay, I’m back!” 

Katya and Trixie turn their attention to the returning Miss Fame, who takes a seat right next to Trixie. “I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly,” he says, looking at Trixie. “I just needed some air to cool down. But I did think of something in the bathroom…”

As Miss Fame explains her (surprisingly usable) idea, Katya gives Trixie a knowing smile, and Trixie finally allows herself to believe that they might be able to create something worthwhile after all.

*

It’s the morning of the fourth Elimination Day, and Trixie is not in the best mood when he walks into the Werk Room. In the end, his team did manage to slap some lyrics together on time for recording and improvise enough ideas to string together a music video, but Trixie knows that there was room for a _lot_ of improvement if time had allowed, and in this fierce competition, there was no space for people who only brought passable results. This week could very well be his last, he could feel it. But he isn’t going to go without a fight - there is still a runway to prepare for. 

This week’s category is _Green_ , and boy was Trixie not looking forward to that one. He did bring one outfit that fit the bill: a gold and mint-green Chinese-style dress he had borrowed from a friend specifically for this runway when he packed his suitcases. He had even created a matching headpiece from scratch to go with the look.

Trixie goes to take it off the rack and puts it down on his station to have a look at it. The dress is stunning, but he can’t think of anything he owns that would accessorize it well enough. He considers briefly making more last-minute jewelry out of leftover fabric and rhinestones, but quickly dismisses the idea. He’s got a lot to make up for with this runway, so five-minute-craft accessories aren’t going to cut it. Also, there is no time - it’s only two hours before showtime. This only leaves one solution: appealing to the generosity of his lovely friends and hope they’d kindly share their much nicer jewelry with his poor ass.

But first, Trixie decides to look through his accessories one last time on the off chance he finds something that works in there. Who knows, maybe he hasn’t chucked away these perfect golden earrings in a drunken rage that one time at the club two years ago, and he’ll find them cozying amongst all his various white and pink accessories.

As he opens his top drawer, his eyes immediately fall upon a pink glittery box. _Oh my god_ , Trixie thinks; he had completely forgotten about that gift. He opens the box, and yes, there they were - beautiful golden earrings, with a dash of emerald green. And also, the note that went with them:

> _May they be useful_.

Not even stopping to think about it, Trixie takes the earrings out to try them against the dress he is planning to wear for the runway.

It’s a match made in heaven.

He still has no idea who gave him such a beautiful and expensive present, and he should probably (definitely) worry about it at some point, but right now, he would just kiss them if he could. They just saved his outfit, so may they be forever blessed.

  
  
  


*

_Well, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ Trixie thinks as she follows her team backstage. She thought she had mentally prepared herself for the worst this week, but now that all of her fears have been confirmed, the panic feels so real. As expected, the jury was not impressed by her group’s performance, and this did not bode well for her, the team leader. Fuck.

“Pearl, will you swap cocktails with me?” Trixie pleads as she walks up to Pearl, who was standing alone by the mirrors, listening to her iPod and holding her untouched drink. “I need an Actual Alcoholic Drink, today. I mean, right now.”

Pearl takes off her earphones and gives her a look. “Is it because of what the judges said?”

“Of course it’s because of what the judges said. Now give me your drink or I’ll cry my mascara off all over your wigs.”

“Please don’t,” Pearl replies, obediently handing Trixie her drink.

Trixie quickly snatches it, chucks away the straw and chugs the whole thing down. She grimaces.

“This G&T is nasty,” she tells Pearl. “How did you keep drinking this for weeks?”

“Bad Gin & Tonic doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s the gallons of cranberry juice you’ve been drinking that made your palate forget the real taste of good alcohol. Also, you’re welcome?”

“Sorry, thanks for that,” Trixie replies as she puts the empty glass down. “Aren’t you worried, though?”

“Kinda. That’s why I’m here practicing for the lip sync...” Pearl pauses and gives Trixie a strangely serious look. “You shouldn’t be worried, though,” Pearl continues. “You’re not going home this week.”

Trixie frowns. “What makes you say that?”

“If anyone deserves to go, it’s me,” Pearl replies with a shrug. “You didn’t fuck up - I did. And I’m not letting you pay the price for it. If I’m in the bottom with whoever, I’ll go all out on that lip sync and send the other bitch packing. And if I’m in the bottom with you… I’ll make sure the right person stays.”

Trixie falls silent. She had no idea that Pearl felt this way, and it touches her as much as it pains her. She wishes she didn’t, though; Trixie’s just as much at fault for failing to come up with good enough ideas for this challenge, and without Katya there to keep the boat afloat, she would have given up on day one. She sucked as a leader, and therefore she deserves that bottom spot just as much as Pearl thought she did, but admitting so right now would probably come across as fake and whiny...

“What makes you think that you’ll be in the bottom for sure?” Trixie eventually asks, not knowing what else to say.

Pearl snorts. “Please. Anyone with functioning eyes and ears can tell I was the worst in the group. I don’t think Fame really shined either, so if I was a judge, I’d throw her in the bottom with me too, because fuck her. But with you being team leader…”

Pearl trails off there, but Trixie knows exactly what she means. With her being team leader, and the way the show is judged, her spot in the bottom is most likely guaranteed.

“Yeah, I know,” Trixie replies with a sigh. “This sucks. But don’t even try going easy on me if we end up lip syncing against each other. If you do, I’ll cry my mascara off all over your white velvet gown.”

“... Please don’t”, Pearl drawls with a smile.

  
  
  


*

“And now, it’s time for the judges’ critiques...”

Trixie is standing on the main stage, lined up with the other top and bottom queens. The time has come for the final judgment, and the suspense is killing her. But, like, literally killing her. Her whole body is weirdly feverish, and she can feel her face burning under her makeup. Wait, was this what suspense felt like?

The judges are talking, but it’s getting harder and harder to make out what they’re saying. Did they just say her name?

… Something’s wrong.

“Hey, are you okay?” Pearl asks from where she’s standing beside her, a tinge of worry in her distorted voice.

“Yeah, I’m…”

As she turns her head to reply, she feels her body sway and… oh no. She’s about to pass out.

Staying upright is quickly becoming a struggle, but she can’t afford to fall in front of the judges. It’s been done before, and no one was impressed. But her vision is starting to shrink, and she knows it’s only a matter of seconds before the worst happens.

Betrayed by her weakened body and fading consciousness, Trixie starts crumbling down and braces for the moment when she’ll hit the floor… except the moment never comes. Instead, Trixie hits a soft wall that thankfully prevents her from flopping limblessly on the floor. Good thing the wall has also two big hands to keep her from falling further down. Wait, what?

This is the last thing Trixie remembers before passing out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mild dub-con

The first thing Trixie sees when she cracks her eyes open is criminally bright light, so she quickly closes them again and turns her head away from the aggressive vision. She’s not sure where she is, but she can tell that whatever she’s lying on is pretty uncomfortable. She tries to sit up to get into a more comfortable position, but her uncooperative body is taking none of it, and all she manages to do is click her neck before having to lie back down. Ugh.

“I think she’s coming to,” she hears someone say.

“What?” a different voice replies.

Trixie turns her head towards the voices and opens her eyes again to see Pearl and Miss Fame hurrying to kneel by her side. Both are in drag, their fully beat faces slightly distorted by worry.

“Trixie, are you okay?” Fame asks, kindly helping Trixie to sit up.

“Thanks… And yeah, I think I’m fine,” Trixie lies. Her muscles are actually feeling pretty weak, her back hurts, and her brain is struggling to take in her surroundings or what’s happening. But as her feet touch the floor, she does notice that, whilst she appears to still be in drag as well, her shoes are missing from her outfit. Did someone take them off?

“What happened?” she asks, trying to recollect the events herself. She remembers getting on the main stage, and then the judges were talking, and then she got really warm, and then…

“Wait... I passed out, didn’t I?” she continues before her friends get a chance to reply. 

Noticing that Trixie is now awake and talking, a few other Queens start approaching her makeshift bed, which she now realizes is made of several chairs lined up by the side of the stage. That would explain the back pain.

“You did, girl,” Pearls nods. “You gave everyone a fright.”

“Luckily for you, that guy was quick enough to catch you before you broke your skull on the stage or something,” Violet declares nonchalantly, looking at her nails.

“I overheard someone say that what he did ruined the footage, though,” Jaidynn pipes up conspiratorially. “Apparently, Ru was livid…”

“Figures... Lina from makeup told me she saw one of the producers take the guy to a meeting room, and he looked angry. He’s probably getting chewed out right now…”

As the other Queens eagerly turn their attention to the new studio gossip talk, Trixie turns to Pearl and Miss Fame for clarifications. She is so confused right now.

“Who are they talking about?”

“Well... As Violet said, someone caught you just before you collapsed, poor thing,” Fame replies, gently putting her hand on Trixie’s arm in a reassuring gesture. “I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him around a few times before. He’s one of the guys working on set. Maybe an assistant?”

“I don’t know him either,” Pearl adds with a shrug. “But he was weird… I think we all expected him to lay you down on the floor after stopping the fall, but instead, he picked you up and started carrying you off the stage. Someone had to go up to him and ask him to put you down. It was surreal.” Miss Fame vigorously nods at that last statement.

Trixie gulps, but not without difficulty. Her throat and mouth feel dry, and her brain is still foggy. Part of her knows she should probably ask more about this guy, but she decides to make it a problem for future Trixie. She’ll know what to do.

“So what’s happening now?” she asks instead.

“I’m not sure,” Pearl shrugs. “They didn’t tell us much. The producers asked us to stay in drag and to remain on stand-by in the studio, so they’re probably hoping to reshoot the last segment today if you’re in good enough shape to do it.”

“Katya was against it, by the way,” Ginger declares as she approaches their group. The mention of Katya’s name catches Trixie’s attention, as she now realizes she hasn’t seen her since she came to. A quick look around tells her that she doesn’t seem to be in the vicinity. Where is she?

“I saw her following the people in charge around the studio, arguing that they should let you rest back at the hotel,” Ginger continues, answering Trixie’s unasked question. “She might still be at it now,” she adds, turning her gaze towards an open door leading out of the studio. _Is that where Katya went?_ Trixie wonders, following her gaze.

“She wasn’t a happy bunny, was she?” Max adds as she joins the conversation. “She heavily insisted they let us at least remove your wig and some of the padding so you could breathe more easily, but they flat out refused. In the end, they only let us remove your shoes. She was furious.”

“To be honest, you could do with a little less padding regardless of the fainting business,” Pearl drawls, prodding at Trixie’s ample hip pads.

“... You would think that, wouldn’t you,” Trixie replies, raising an eyebrow at Pearl’s unpadded form. “The fit of the dress was all wrong without the padding, and I didn’t want to look like a twig in a tent on stage... So, y’know, I made adjustments,” she adds, feeling the need to justify herself. She had tested the fit of the dress before deciding to take it to Drag Race, and it had been perfect then, but when she tried it on again in the Werk Room, it had become baggy in places, so she’d had to compensate as well as she could with the little time she had. Turns out that weeks of constant stress and non-stop exertion can change the shape of a body a lot.

Pearl chuckles. “Okay, skinny, if you’ve got enough energy to clap back, then you should be able to stand?” she asks, offering a hand as she gets up herself. Miss Fame does the same.

“Thanks”, Trixie says, hoisting herself up with her friends’ help. Bad idea: before she can even reach a full standing position, she feels a horrible nausea rush up from her stomach right up to her throat. She doesn’t puke right here and there, but she can tell it’s only a matter of seconds before her lunch makes a break for it.

“... Bathroom,” is all she manages to blurt out as she darts past Pearl and Fame towards the closest toilet.

  
  
  


*

  
  


Trixie walks out of the bathroom on shaky legs. She’s rarely felt this sick in her entire life, and that’s including the time she got hungover from drinking vodka in an attempt to cure another pre-existing hangover (don’t try it, kids, it never works). Thankfully, the worst of it seems to be behind her, but this whole day has left her completely exhausted. Her one wish right now would be to rip herself out of her drag, throw her battered body on a bed and rest forever. 

“Trixie! Are you okay?”

Trixie turns around to see Katya hurrying up to her as fast as her high heels let her, looking dashing in her sparkly green dress and tall blonde wig, but also spectacularly out of breath.

“You need to stop smoking, girl, look at you wheezing after running two yards,” Trixie jokes, but despite her best efforts to sound energetic, her voice comes out squeaky and weak. 

“Try running in a corset and maybe then I’ll let you swallow back those words,” Katya smiles back. She takes a second to catch her breath, then continues. “The producers have just announced that today’s filming is postponed to tomorrow, so everyone’s back in the Werk Room to de-drag before heading back to the hotel. Pearl and Fame told me you were in there, so I came here to let you know.”

“Postponed? Seriously? Yikes...” Trixie replies, feeling a little guilty. Of course, it’s not like she chose to faint on stage, but she really didn’t want to be the cause for potentially costly production delays. And everyone must be so pissed about having to go through the whole shebang all over again tomorrow… She knows she would be. Well, maybe not _pissed_ pissed, but she sure would be very mildly annoyed.

“Don’t feel responsible for this,” Katya says, looking serious. “Firstly, you’re obviously in no shape to stand up on stage, so this decision should have been a no-brainer from the start. And secondly… It looks like there are other circumstances that forced the production to stop for today, anyway. From what I could gather, what happened on stage was just the tip of an iceberg of problems… Someone even got fired over this. It’s all a big mess. But it’s absolutely not your fault.”

Trixie’s mouth falls open at the news. “Wait, someone got fired? But… Why? What happened?”

Katya’s eyes dart left for a split second before she replies. “... I’m not sure. But hey, we’ve been in wigs for hours, and I don’t know about you, but my scalp is begging me to please rip the whole damn thing off. Let’s go and get out of drag, OK?” she adds with a smile, gesturing for Trixie to follow her.

“... Sure”, Trixie replies carefully. _Did she just dodge the question?_ Trixie wonders as she falls into step with her. With her shoes missing and Katya’s extra-high heels, their height dynamic has been temporarily reversed, making Trixie feel a little dwarfed as they walk side by side towards the Werk Room. 

Trixie glances up at Katya. Katya is looking straight ahead, unsmiling.

Okay, something’s going on. “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Trixie eventually asks. “You look so serious, it’s weirding me out.”

“I’m always serious,” Katya replies cheekily. 

She’s deflecting again, but Trixie decides to use the best interrogation method in her arsenal: staring at the person until they feel uncomfortable enough to answer any of your questions as long as it makes you stop.

Katya sighs. “OK, fine. I don’t want to lie to you, so I’ll just say this: something did happen, but I don’t think we should talk about it here,” she half-whispers, discreetly pointing at a camera in the corner. “I’ll tell you everything once we’re back at the hotel. OK?”

Trixie gives her a long look before nodding. 

This weird day just keeps getting weirder.

  
  


*

  
  


“See you at the hotel!” exclaims a clean-faced, boy-clothed Jaidynn as he waves goodbye from the pink entrance way.

“Byeee!” Katya grins, waving back at him.

“See ya,” Trixie replies as he shimmies out of his dress. 

With Jaidynn gone, only Trixie and Katya remain in the Werk Room, along with a couple of busy-looking staff members scurrying around to turn off cameras and monitors for the day. They soon excuse themselves, though, leaving Trixie and Katya truly alone to get changed in silence. Trixie has about a million and a half questions she wants to ask, but as per their earlier silent agreement, she decides to patiently wait until they’re out of the studio before broaching any potentially touchy subject.

“I’m basically ready to go,” Katya eventually declares, breaking the silence. “Do you mind if I wait for you outside? I need a smoke.”

“Sure, no problem,” Trixie replies, slowly shrugging on his button-up shirt. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Great. See you at the back entrance!” Katya waves, stepping out of the room.

Trixie tries to hurry up so as not to make Katya wait for too long, but he’s still feeling sluggish from today’s ordeal, and it feels like the faster he tries to button his shirt up, the longer it takes his man hands to get the annoyingly tiny buttons through the corresponding holes. Frustrated, he decides to leave the rest of the top buttons open. He usually doesn’t like to flash his absence of chest hair like this, but it’s not like he’s going out to meet people or anything.

“Hi.”

Trixie startles at the sudden sound, turning around to see who spoke. Huh? Was someone still here?

A man he doesn’t recognize is standing at the entrance, looking straight at him. Going by his standard black outfit and familiar headset around the neck, he must be someone from the tech team.

“Oh, hi,” Trixie replies, gathering his stuff as fast as he can. “Are you here to shoo me out? I’m sorry I took so long, I was just on my way out…”

“No, no, no, take your time”, the man says. His speech is a little accented, but it’s difficult to tell where it’s exactly from. Maybe Sweden? “I’m not here to kick you out. I just wanted to say hello.”

Trixie frowns and cocks his head to the side. “... Have we met before?”

“You haven’t met me, but I’ve met you. I’m a big fan.”

Trixie’s eyebrows shoot up. A Trixie fan? Here? Does he know him from his show in Chicago?

“I’ve noticed you as soon as you arrived,” the man continues by way of explanation. “I wanted to tell you that I have loved everything you have done here, and I think you look fantastic. I have been supporting you since day one, and I sincerely hope you win this competition.”

“Oh wow, thank you. That’s really kind of you to say,” Trixie smiles. What a sweet and encouraging guy. If only all fans were this nice.

“I’m sorry about what happened today,” the man continues. “It was not supposed to happen like this.”

Trixie briefly thinks that it’s quite a strange way to phrase it, but dismisses it as a language barrier glitch. He probably meant to say something polite about unexpectedly having to cancel the shoot.

“Oh, well, it was no one’s fault, and I’m sure some people are secretly happy to finish the day early,” Trixie replies with a pleasant smile.

The man nods, and after a short pause, he hesitantly asks: “Could I… get a hug?”

Trixie’s smile almost falls off his face at the sudden request. Even the nice fans want to see him suffer, then, huh? Trixie really isn’t a hug person, but the only thing more awkward than giving a fan a hug is refusing one, so...

“Um, sure…”

Actually, there was something even more awkward than that: crossing an uncomfortably long distance between you and a fan to offer a hug you didn’t even want to give in the first place. But Trixie does it anyway, because he’s a good and generous person.

It’s only as Trixie gets closer that he realizes how imposing the man actually is, up close. He’s got a good few inches on him, and he’s fairly broader, too (guess you would need a few big guys like him to work on a set like this one). His eyes also keep dropping towards Trixie’s neck and chest area as he approaches, which makes him feel self-conscious. Did he miss a spot when removing his makeup, earlier?

Regardless, Trixie braces for the incoming hug. The man quickly envelopes him in his big arms and squeezes while Trixie gives him a couple of gentle pats on the back. After a few seconds like this (Trixie counts up to three), Trixie starts to softly push against his shoulders to signify that the hug is now over. 

Except that the man doesn’t let go. He actually starts squeezing harder.

“Um,” Trixie starts saying, pushing a little more insistently. “Could you let go of me? It’s been great meeting you, but I really need to go, now.”

The man doesn’t reply, nor comply. Instead, he puts his face right into the nook of Trixie’s neck and inhales, while his hands start roaming down Trixie's back.

“Wha...?!” is all the eloquence Trixie can muster while a million questions go through his head, such as _what the fuck? What is this? Is this assault? This is assault, right? Should he scream? Would anyone hear if he screamed? Would Katya come if he called his name?_

As soon as his brain catches up with what’s happening, Trixie starts struggling and pushing in earnest against the man’s massive shoulders, but to no avail. His arms could barely handle buttoning up a shirt earlier, so how could he expect them to fight off this armored truck of a guy?

The man's hands quickly reach the back of his thighs and he starts lifting him up like he weighs nothing. Trixie keeps helplessly thrashing, but he might as well have been trying to bend a metal pipe bare handed for all the effect it had on the guy. He opens his mouth to shout, when...

“Hey!!!”

The man suddenly rips himself off Trixie and stumbles backwards. Or did someone drag him off? Either way, Trixie takes this chance to stagger backwards and put as much distance between him and the man as possible until his back hits a table.

As Trixie catches both his breath and composure, he can see the man getting back up from where he had fallen on the floor, as well as Katya protectively standing between him and Trixie, glaring down on the man.

The man slowly stands up and looks at both of them with an indescribable expression on his face, but if Trixie had to choose one word for it, it would be close to ‘hurt’. 

“... I’m sorry,” he finally says, throwing a last look at Trixie before disappearing around the corner of the entrance.

Soon after he’s gone, Katya turns around and grabs both of Trixie’s shoulders. “Are you okay?!” he asks, his light blue eyes searching Trixie’s for something.

Still a little stunned, Trixie takes a beat before replying. “Well, that was scary,” he says with a weak chuckle. “Remind me to never accept hugs in the absence of my stun gun, in the future.”

The corner of Katya’s lips twitch at that, but his eyes are still looking at him with deep concern. Realising that deflective humor won’t work here, Trixie starts again. “I’m okay. Thanks. I’m just glad you got here before… y’know.” He almost adds that it felt like Katya had somehow heard his call for help, but decides not to.

“Of course,” Katya replies, his hands moving down Trixie’s arms to squeeze both his hands. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I should’ve known better…” He pauses after saying this, looking down at his feet. “Let’s head back to the hotel,” he adds, lifting his eyes back up to look at Trixie. “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you have been following: yes, I initially planned this story to be five chapter long, but this last chapter became a little lengthy, so for the sake of balance, I've decided to split it.
> 
> But the next chapter will be the last!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note to address the LIES and DECEIT on my part from the previous chapter notes: I did say that this would be the last chapter, but... it is not.
> 
> Now that we've all learnt that I'm terrible at organizing a story in decently sized chapters, I hope you enjoy what may or may not be the penultimate chapter!

Trixie and Katya have barely stepped through the door of the hotel when they are immediately stopped by the young woman standing behind the reception desk.

“Oh, hi, hello, good afternoon. You wouldn’t happen to be ‘the Brians’, perchance?”

They look at the receptionist, then at each other, then back at the receptionist. _“The Brians”_? Who even calls them that? But then again, there probably aren’t many groups of people named Brian who would enter this particular hotel at this particular time.

“I… think we probably are, yes.”

The receptionist gives them a wide smile. “I knew it! You look just as described. I have a message from your party for you. They asked me to let you know that they have moved to the bar restaurant for the evening and are waiting for you there.”

Trixie vaguely wonders what kind of description she was given that she would recognize them on sight. It was probably something along the lines of “ _If you see two faggy balding fucks come in, send them to us._ ”

“Gotcha. Thank you, Barbara,” Katya replies with his bright, friendly smile, reading the receptionist’s name tag.

“Absolutely no problem,” Barbara smiles back as she returns to her bookings and whatnots.

“I knew these alcoholic whores would head straight for the booze without waiting for us,” Trixie mutters as they walk into the lobby.

“And it’s just as well, since drinking is the last thing you should be doing right now,” Katya lightly admonishes.

Trixie rolls his eyes. “Okay, mom.”

“Hey,” Katya frowns. “I’ll get you drunk another day, and that’s a promise, but you should rest for now. Should I walk you up to your room? I can tuck you in and read you a bedtime story?”

“Or,” Trixie counters, raising a hand like a barrier, “we can sit in the lobby at a comfortable distance, and you can stay well away from my room, you predator.”

“You got me!” Katya laughs, raising both his hands in surrender and falling back into their usual banter. “But seriously, though, are you sure you don’t want to go up and rest?” he continues in a more serious tone. “Today was a lot...”

“Don’t be that terrible friend who hints at a story and never tells it,” Trixie replies as he takes a seat on one of the lobby’s comfier looking armchairs and gestures for Katya to join him. “You said you had a lot to tell me, so sit down and spill.”

“Okay, fine,” Katya starts, claiming the red chair next to Trixie. “First of all, I want you to know that the reason I’ve kept this to myself until now is because it was just conjecture for the longest time, so I didn’t want to spread it like gossip in case it ended up being fake news.”

That’s understandable. Trixie nods, inviting Katya to go on.

“Okay, then let’s start from the beginning. Do you remember the morning of the second day on set, when we first moved our stuff in the Werk Room?”

So many things have happened since then that it feels like it was three lifetimes ago, but Trixie remembers. “How could I forget? Pearl stole and ate half of my bagel, that day. I still haven’t forgiven her.”

Katya snorts. “That’s rotted behavior. But do you remember the drama with the luggage?”

Trixie puts a finger on his chin, thinking. “Oh yeah, my stuff got moved in ahead, and some of the girls got pissy about it. Pearl said the person in charge of moving things in probably realised halfway through that they weren’t being paid enough to carry all this gay shit and just dropped everything to move to the Bahamas…”

Katya smiles at that. “I mean, why not, right? I might have thought that, too. But guess what? I was on my way out to have a smoke at the time, and I saw this massive guy loiter around the luggage, inspecting each bag before picking up a few and moving them to the Werk Room. He was dressed like staff, so I thought nothing of it then...”

Trixie raises his eyebrows at the news, but doesn’t say anything and waits for Katya to continue.

“By the time I got back from my smoke break, everyone was already halfway through moving their stuff in, so I joined in to do the same. It’s only after we started getting ready that Ginger filled me in on what she called the ‘Trixie luggage-gate’...”

Trixie rolls his eyes. Luggage gate? Really? Ginger really has a flair for transforming non-stories into award-winning drama...

“Obviously, what I’d just seen the big guy do immediately came to mind, but I didn’t say anything. Instead...” Katya pauses there for a second. “... Let’s just say that I got curious about the situation, which gave me an opportunity to talk to you, and it was the best decision I ever made on this hellish show,” he ends with a smile.

“Awww”, Trixie replies with a hand over his heart. “This is a shameless lie, but still, I appreciate it.”

Katya scoffs. “I never lie! But anyway, I’m not done with my story.”

Trixie closes his mouth and sits up straight, mimicking a top student listening in class.

“Fast forward to today, backstage. Did you see who brought the drinks?”

Trixie shakes his head. He doesn’t remember seeing anyone bring the drinks, ever. They’re usually already there, ready for his parched throat and grabby hands after he steps away from whatever horribly stressful thing he just had to do on stage. 

“Well, I did. And it was _that same guy_ . I wouldn’t have thought much of it normally, because he’s staff, after all. He might’ve just been doing his job. But he was acting so _shifty_. Like, after he put the drinks down, he stood there looking around the room for a while, as if he was looking for something. And when he noticed me watching him, he just… left.”

“Just to be clear… The guy you’re talking about is the creepy Swede from earlier, right?”

Katya blinks. “I don’t know if he’s Swedish, but yeah, it was very much that guy.”

“Wait…” Trixie frowns. “Are you trying to say that he did something to my drink? On the set of a television show?”

“Well... Considering it wasn’t the first time I saw him acting weird around your stuff, and also the timing of your dizzy spell… Yeah, that’s pretty much what I’m saying. But I wouldn’t be making these accusations if that was the only suspicious thing I saw today.”

Trixie cocks his head to the side and waits for Katya to elaborate.

“Okay, get this,” Katya continues, leaning in closer. “I was standing right at the back of the stage when you fainted, and guess who was there to catch you? _That guy again_ . And I swear there was _nothing_ natural or spontaneous about the way he did it. He reacted so fast, it was like he knew something was off before anyone else did. Actually, I'm certain of it.”

Trixie’s recollection of the incident is extremely vague, but now that he thinks about it, he just about remembers that someone had been there behind him to stop the fall before he even started collapsing. 

"And next thing we know, that bastard's got you stuck in a gropy hug when he thinks no one is watching... Disgusting," Katya spits, glaring at the memory.

He looks surprisingly upset by what happened in the Werk Room, even more so than Trixie was. But if their roles had been reversed, Trixie would probably have been angry enough to punch the guy into the stratosphere, too, and it warms his heart to know that Katya cares about him just as much. However...

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up,” Trixie objects. “That all sounds very likely, except I didn’t touch my drink. I drank Pearl’s abomination of a cocktail that she calls Gin & Tonic. So unless he’s an evil genius mastermind able to predict my sudden alcoholic urges and take advantage of them, I can’t see how that can be right...”

At that, Katya stops to think for a few seconds. Then, he suddenly gasps, his blue eyes opening wide as if he’d just understood everything about the whole universe. 

“Oh!”, he exclaims as he grabs Trixie’s forearm, generating a buzzing sound. Ah, no, wait, that was just someone using the nearby coffee machine. “I think I got it!”

“... Got what?” Trixie asks, arching an eyebrow. “Gonorrhea?”

Katya snorts. “Probably that too! But listen. When I was chasing the producers around, earlier, I overheard something,” he confides, eyes still wide as he’s recollecting the scene. “They said something about how they had to cancel today’s shoot because someone ‘tampered with the competition’. I didn’t understand what that meant then, but now...”

Katya pauses for effect. Trixie reacts with an insistent look to urge him to please skip the dramatics and get to the point.

“What if,” Katya finally continues, speaking painfully slowly, “what if this guy knew that you and Pearl were going to lip sync today, and to give you a legs-up, he put something in Pearl’s drink to put her out of commission?”

Trixie’s eyes go wide at the suggestion. What?!

“I mean, it holds up, right?” Katya continues, his voice growing more and more assured as he speaks. “As staff, he must have been told who was going to lip sync next to make preparations for it. When he heard it was you, he probably tried to find a way to ensure that you stayed… by making sure the other person left. Say, by putting something in their drink that would throw them off their game.”

“That… would be rotted,” Trixie replies slowly, trying to wrap his head around all the implications if Katya’s suspicions turned out to be true. They're based on a lot of assumptions, but it's difficult to deny that it's all very much possible. At least, that nasty G&T he regretfully drank would finally have a decent excuse for its horrid taste.

“But then, out of all the people you could have swapped cocktails with, you went and chose Pearl, the very person you were going to lip sync against, which threw a massive wrench in his plans,” Katya goes on, nodding along his own reasoning. “I guess nothing happened the way he thought it would, so he panicked, messed up, and got caught.”

Suddenly, realization hits Trixie as he remembers the man’s words. _"It wasn’t supposed to happen like this”_. This is what he said after apologizing to him in the Werk Room. What if that statement had actually been a confession to his misdeed? Trixie is also reminded of all these times he felt eyes on him as he was getting ready in the Werk Room. He had attributed the creepy feeling to a weird brand of camera shyness, but what if it had been real all along and he really was being spied on through the cameras this whole time? Trixie shivers at the thought.

“He got fired today, by the way,” Katya suddenly adds as if he had just remembered that crucial piece of information. “Lina from makeup told me just before I met up with you by the bathroom. That’s why I wasn’t expecting him to still be in the studio when I went for a smoke earlier, but… hey,” he concludes with a shrug and a half-smile, but his eyes look apologetic.

“Hey,” Trixie repeats with the same shrug. After a pause, he continues. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize any of this was happening, though… Seems like I’ve been trying so hard to focus on the competition in front of me that I’ve been oblivious to everything around it.”

“Tell me about it,” Katya replies with a meaningful look. “Half of this room could be trying to get into your panties and you wouldn’t notice.”

Trixie quickly glances around. “It’s just you and me, here…” 

“Precisely,” Katya says, putting a hand under his chin and wiggling his tiny eyebrows.

Trixie’s mouth falls open, then he blinks stupidly, then blushes furiously. He caught on the implication way too late not to feel silly about it, and his utter inability to come up with a good comeback is a clear sign of his brain shutting down.

It’s time to retreat and regroup.

“Ugh, I can’t with you right now,” he groans petulantly, standing up and carefully angling his burning face away from Katya’s line of sight. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. I don’t have any money for your services, anyway, so don’t follow me.”

“My offer for a bedtime story still holds, though. On the house!” Katya calls after him in his Russian hooker accent as Trixie walks away.

“Good night, Katya,“ Trixie replies. He knows he's being a coward by walking away like this, but he doesn't know what else to do except do his best to keep his voice even as he steps out of the lobby, trying hard not to look back.

It’s only when the elevator dings and Trixie steps into the claustrophobic nightmare box that he finally turns around, as any normal person would when they step inside an elevator. Truth be told, he half expected for Katya to have (yet again) silently crept up behind him and to be met with his stupid, perfect smile.

But no one was there.

He doesn’t know if he’s feeling relieved or disappointed as he rides up the elevator, alone.

As Trixie closes his room door behind him, the last of the energy that has miraculously been holding him upright until now suddenly evaporates, leaving him only with the feeling of being completely drained dry. He is physically and mentally beyond exhaustion, and it takes him everything he’s got just to remove his shoes and drag his useless body to the slightly musty hotel bed.

Trixie lies down on top of the covers, eyes closed, but a tiny part of his brain that is annoyingly still functioning is apparently dead set on reminding him that there is still _a lot_ to unpack and think about after his conversation with Katya. But the rest of his brain said: _no, bitch. Sleepy time, now._

As Trixie almost drifts off to sleep, his last surviving brain cell almost buzzes him awake with a sudden question popping into his head. What about the handwritten messages left at his station, though? And the green earrings? Were they also gifts from that creepy stalky, slimy gropy Swede? 

As intriguing as the mystery was, the valiant brain cell loses the battle to extreme fatigue, and Trixie falls into a deep, deep sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this story ever get a last chapter? Your guess is as good as mine, at this point!
> 
> Enjoy ♥️

Trixie woke up with a start and looked at the time.

Oh no. 

He was late for today’s rehearsal.

He jumped out of bed and rushed to the studio. All the other Queens were already there waiting for him, and none of them were even trying to conceal how irritated they were at his tardiness. His arrival was met with heavy sighs, pointed eyerolls and annoyed glances.

“Took you long enough,” Ginger glared.

“I’m sorry, I overslept,” Trixie replied, truly feeling sorry.

“Let’s just go,” said Ginger, leading everyone out of the Werk Room to join the main stage for rehearsal.

As the music of the number started, Trixie suddenly realized that everyone else was already in drag, fully wigged and fully beat, while he was still clad in his boring boy clothes. He hadn’t even shaved his face, and the stubble was _real._

Trixie felt mortified. How could he forget to get in drag before the cameras started rolling? He really needed to head back and fix this, or he would be laughed out of the competition.

“Hang on… I still need to get ready first!” he exclaimed. “You guys start without me, I’ll be back soon.”

“But it takes you over two hours to get in drag!”

“Let me at least put on a wig and dress! I swear I won’t be long,” Trixie replied hastily as he hurried out of the stage.

Trixie was rifling through his clothes rail in the Werk Room searching for something adequate to wear when he suddenly felt a strong presence behind him.

He turned around and wasn’t surprised to see Katya, standing only a few feet away and looking straight at him. She was in full drag, dressed up in a sumptuous red velvet gown that hugged her form from neck to ankle, platinum blonde locks cascading in waves down her shoulders and blue eyes almost glowing through her smoky makeup.

“Hi,” she said seductively, her rich red lips framing her beautiful white smile.

“Seriously, girl, we’ve talked about this… no more creeping up on people, please,” Trixie sighed as he turned back around to continue looking through his garments. He was trying hard to play it cool, and he hoped it worked.

Katya silently walked up to Trixie’s clothes rail to join him in his search for an outfit to wear. 

“I think I’ve found what you need!”, she suddenly exclaimed after browsing a little, pulling out a turkey costume Trixie didn’t even remember owning.

“No way I’m ever wearing that, it looks ridiculous,” Trixie replied after glancing at it, feeling a little like he was pointing out the obvious.

“I think it looks hot,” Katya replied, undeterred. “And you can’t know it’s not the one before you try it on.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t need to wear this to know how dumb I’ll look in it,” Trixie replied as he went back to perusing his other options.

“But I want to see you wear it,” Katya insisted. 

“Make me, then.”

“OK.”

Trixie’s head snapped around to look at Katya, who was now gazing at him with unwavering, smoldering eyes and walking up to him tantalizingly slowly, turkey costume folded over her velvet-clad forearm. Trixie was frozen on the spot, completely mesmerized by the intensely blue eyes that never left his as Katya slowly made her approach towards his paralyzed body.

She now stood right in front of him in all her red glory, softly setting the costume aside and steadily bringing her hands up to unbutton his shirt, very slowly, one button at a time, starting from the top and going all the way down. Trixie did not dare make any movement as he watched her undress him, never rushing, sensuously sliding her hands over his shoulders and under his shirt, letting the garment slide off his arms and fall on the floor behind him with a soft noise.

“I could have removed that myself,” Trixie whispered, afraid to break the moment by speaking too loudly.

“But isn’t it hotter this way?” Katya whispers back, her hands leaving hot trails on Trixie’s skin as they prowled around his naked bust, up his shoulders and down his hips, finally settling on his waist, her striking eyes still looking deep into his.

“Weren’t you going to make me wear the costume?”

“Was I?” Katya purred as she vigorously pulled him flush against her body, her red mouth claiming his in a ravenous kiss as he completely surrendered his body to her.

  
  


~

  
  


Trixie wakes up with a start. 

Oh no.

Did he really just dream up the premise of a cheap porno movie? Starring himself as the hungry bottom and Katya as the irresistible femme fatale?

Trixie can’t stop his own hands from clawing his face in embarrassment as snippets of the dream keep popping up into his head like little cringe attacks. Was he really going to wear a turkey costume as part of some weird kinky play? With Katya?! In drag?!!

He shakes his head at the thought in an attempt to forget, but he can already feel the most vivid parts of the dream making themselves comfortable in his precious long term memory slots. Ugh.

As Trixie sits up, he notices that he had been sleeping in his underwear, which is a slight surprise since he doesn’t remember removing his clothes before collapsing on his bed yesterday. Another detail that he doesn’t miss is the telltale tented shape at the front of his boxers - it looks like Lil’ Trix down there was pretty _invested_ in the dream’s events...

With a sigh, Trixie gets up from the bed and trudges towards the bathroom, almost tripping over clothes that were lying by the foot of the bed that he identifies as his outfit from yesterday (did he somehow kick them off himself during the night?). He grabs a mug from the hotel tea service tray on his way there to pour himself a glass of water in the bathroom sink. He also makes sure to take one of the X-rated magazines he’s brought with him to take care of Lil’ Trix's matinal excitement, as he does not trust his imagination to do a trauma-free job of it right now.  
  


Once relieved and hydrated, Trixie steps out of the bathroom and checks the time. It’s only 6:27 AM, and if the usual filming schedule still stands (which he’s been assured it would), he shouldn’t be expected in the studio before 9 AM, which means he has literal hours ahead of him to overthink things. Great.

As Trixie looks around searching for something (anything) that would keep his mind busy, the ancient-looking hotel telephone on his bedside table starts ringing. Had it been any other day, he would have been infuriated at the person ringing him at this ungodly hour, but right now, it takes all of his restraints not to literally jump on the receiver to take the call. He’ll take any distraction right now.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hello, good morning!” greets a cheerful female voice. “This is Reception. I’m ever so sorry to call so early in the morning when you did not request a wake up call, but I have a gentleman here that would need to speak with you urgently. May I put him on?”

A low sense of dread pinches Trixie’s guts at the mention of the word “gentleman” as his still slightly traumatized brain immediately jumps to the worst supposition as to whom it might be. The Swede can’t possibly still be trying to make contact with him… right?

But he can’t just say “no thanks bye” and hang up without knowing for sure whether the call is legit or not. Plus, even if it _was_ the Swede on the other end of the line, what is he gonna do? Breathe heavily through the receiver? Actually, that did sound a little scary...

“... Okay,” Trixie finally replies, bracing for the worst as he hears the rustling sound of the phone being passed over.

“Good morning! This is Ryan, the assistant producer. We’ve met on set before?”

Trixie lets out a sigh of relief. So it was a legit call, after all.

As it turns out, Ryan was calling to let him know that he will need to see the nurse before filming today to check that everything was in order after his tumble the previous day. Trixie feels well enough, now, just a little groggy from sleep, but he’s never been one to refuse a free medical check-up when presented with one, so he obediently agrees to meet the nurse at 8:30 AM at the medical bay of the studio.

Trixie has barely put the receiver down when he hears someone knocking on his door. His heartbeat picks up again despite himself as he, again, imagines the worst possible scenario as to who might be behind the door. Is this his life, now?

Oh, and the door doesn't have a peephole to discreetly check. Great.

“Who is it?” Trixie calls loud enough to be heard through the door, trying to keep the dread out of his voice.

“It’s Pearl,” his friend's signature drawling voice announces from the other side of the door, to Trixie’s deep relief. “Can we talk?”

“Ummm,” Trixie hesitates, glancing at himself in the hallway mirror to check whether he was somehow serviceable. The answer was a resounding _no_ : his hair was an unnameable mess, his face looked blotchy underneath the patchy stubble, and did he mention he was currently sporting nothing but his gayest pair of underwear, aka pink boxers with a strawberry pattern? Ah, no, wait, scratch that: he also had his black socks on. The pilling ones with holes big enough for his toes to poke out two at a time. Yum.

“Just give me a minute!” Trixie shouts back.

Moving in order of priorities, he strides back to the bed to grab yesterday’s pair of pants and rumpled shirt and quickly throws them on to hide the worst of the damage. Pearl will have to deal with his stubbly face and flattened hair - they’ve done many a drag gig together before, so it’s not like he’d never seen Trixie’s completely smashed face during their clubbing days. He can handle it.

Trixie hurries back to the door, trying to button up his shirt as fast as he could on the way there (and noticing too late that he was one button off). and opens it to reveal Pearl standing behind it, looking fresh and handsome in his immaculate white sports gear. Why did the contrast between them need to be _that_ harsh?

“Wow, you look a mess,” Pearl declares, raising his eyebrows and looking him up and down. “Did you sneak trade in here?” he adds, trying to peek above his shoulder inside his room.

“Would I even open the door if I did?” Trixie retorts with a lopsided smile as he steps aside to let a skeptical-looking Pearl in. “What’s up? Going for a jog?”

“Yeah. They won't let me run past the parking lot, but it's better than not moving at all. Anyway, I heard your voice through the door as I was walking past, so I thought I’d stop by to check on you first since you were awake,” he explains, walking into the room and looking around carefully, as if he was expecting to find a body poking out from under the bed or something. He really believed in his trade-sneaking theory, huh? 

“We missed you, last night,” Pearl continues as pulls out the small chair by the desk to sit on, seemingly satisfied with his impromptu inspection. Trixie perches himself up on the bed to face him, cross-legged. “Katya said you were fine and just decided to turn in early, but… ”

Trixie feels his face get a little warm as flashes of red lips surge forward in his mind at the mention of Katya’s name, but he gives himself a mental slap before replying. “Girl, the prospect of catching up on sleep got so exciting to me that I literally passed out on my bed as soon as I got in,” Trixie explains with a smile. “I’d been running on low fuel since day one, so this was a golden opportunity to sleep and I wasn't going to miss it. Not even for a drink.”

“... So you’re okay, then?” Pearl asks, his eyes boring into Trixie’s own. He looked very serious.

“I’m fine, yeah,” Trixie replies, his smile faltering a little at Pearl’s sudden change of expression. 

“And nothing happened yesterday that I’d want to know about?”

Trixie feels sweat gathering at the back of his neck at Pearl’s tone. It sounded like he was in trouble for something and was just about to be told exactly why. “What do you mean?”

“Well, just off the top of my head, I thought I might be interested to know that one of my best friends here got drugged on set by some random nutjob. That sounds like relevant information to share when asked about how you’re doing, don't you think?”

Trixie’s mouth opens in mild shock at Pearl's outburst... if you could really call it that. Pearl didn't sound angry - actually, he sounded as chill as he always does. But he did look a little disappointed by what he probably interpreted as an attempt from Trixie to evade real talk. But it wasn't - it's just that life has taught Trixie to default to saying he was fine, because very few people actually cared to know whether he was on cloud nine or on the verge of jumping off it.

But Pearl did care. 

Trixie sighs. “I'm sorry. You're right. I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it... Did Katya tell you, then?”

“She didn’t need to,” Pearl says in a softer tone as he stands up from his chair to join Trixie on the bed. “I overheard your conversation in the lobby and drew my own conclusions. But I wanted to hear what happened directly from you. You know you can talk to me, girl.” 

“... How much did you hear, already?” Trixie asks. He hadn't really planned to revisit the whole story quite so soon, but part of him knew that, out of anyone, Pearl probably deserved to know what transpired yesterday the most. Some of it was particularly relevant to him, after all.

“Enough to gather that the weirdo who caught you on stage probably spiked your drink, and tried to take advantage of that.”

“Well… It might have been a little more complicated than that…” Trixie starts as he proceeds to fill Pearl in on the previous day's unfortunate events, from the drink spiking incident to what happened in the Werk Room when everyone had gone.

“I should’ve known…” Pearl says, narrowing his eyes in anger. “I noticed him looking at you wrong. When you fell, I mean. Like, you could almost swipe the drool off his face. And I'm pretty familiar with these kind of looks, since they're usually aimed at me," he adds with a little cheeky smile. "But I didn’t think he’d act on it on fucking set... I’m so sorry, girl, if I’d realized...”

“Literally not your fault,” Trixie replies with as reassuring a smile as he could manage. “And I’m okay, now. Katya karate-chopped him out of the studio after that, so that’s hopefully one chapter closed.”

“Did she, now? She really is your guardian angel,” Pearl smirks as he jokingly pushes on Trixie’s shoulder. “Always there to look out for you.”

Trixie blushes a little as he ponders Pearl's words. He can't deny that Katya really has been a huge support for him the whole time they've been here; in less than four weeks, he's propelled himself in Trixie's heart from complete stranger to... Endearing yet clingy confidant? Bestest friend with annoying benefits? Trixie can't find the right words to describe their relationship, but what he feels towards Katya is probably a mix of friendship, admiration, exasperation and... something else.

Either way, he feels nowhere near ready to share any of that with Pearl right now, so he promptly changes the subject. “Anyway, shouldn’t you start your jog? It’s almost seven, and you need to muscle these chicken legs if you’re gonna keep refusing to pad them.”

Pearl rolls his eyes at the quip, but then startles when he actually looks at the time. “Shit, you’re right,” he says, slightly panicking as he swiftly stands up and hurries to the door. Remembering his manners, Trixie also gets up from the bed to walk him out.

“Hey.” Pearl suddenly calls as pokes his head through the door he just walked out of. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re gay, we all got the memo,” Trixie deadpans lightly.

Pearl rolls his eyes again. “I’m being serious. Whatever happens today, I fucking love you. All right?”

“... All right,” Trixie says, a little unsure. “Love you too, girl.”

Pearl smiles and closes the door.

Trixie sits back on his bed and listens to Pearl's fading footsteps.

Maybe he should practice that lip sync song again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's got two thumbs and still isn't closing up this story?
> 
> 👍 this chapter 👍
> 
> I hope you enjoy it regardless!

“Okay, you’re good to go,” the nurse declares with a pleasant smile as she puts down her clipboard. “The blood test results should come back later in the day, but for now, you’re clear to proceed with today’s filming. I’ll let the producers know.”

“Thank you very much,” Trixie replies politely as he stands up to leave.

“Good luck for the runway!” she smiles as she goes to open the door for him.

“You too,” Trixie replies on autopilot, before giving himself a mental facepalm as he realizes what he just said. “... I mean, thank you”, he self-corrects sheepishly. He does that every time.

Trixie has one foot out of the door when he notices something that makes him stop in his tracks. On the console table to his left are a bunch of Post-It notes that Trixie recognizes as their main way to communicate their needs to Production while they are sequestered in the hotel, and one of them in particular catches his eye. It’s folded in a way that makes it difficult to decipher who signed it, but most of the message is visible.

> _Could I have some nicotine gum?_ _  
> _ _I need to reduce my smoking._ _  
> Thank you,_

Trixie looks at it curiously. Not because of what it says, but because of the neat handwriting it’s written in, which looks hauntingly familiar. 

“Did you need anything else?” the nurse asks hesitantly from where she was still holding the door, snapping him out of his trance. 

“No no, I’m fine! Sorrythanksbye!” Trixie awkwardly replies as he nothing but runs out of the office before embarrassing himself any further.

Trixie lets out a little sigh as the door closes behind him. He looks up to check the time on the wall clock above the door. It’s 8:50 AM, which means he has a little bit of time to quickly stop by the bathroom before joining the rest of the girls for take two of their weekly runway. 

The thought of seeing the rest of the Queens for the first time since yesterday’s incident actually made Trixie feel a little anxious. What if they were pissed at him about the unexpected rescheduling? This competition puts everyone under so much pressure already, they probably could have done without the extra lap. Pearl had tried to reassure her that everyone was fine with it when they talked this morning, but his anxiety won't let him believe it until he sees it. And what about the lip sync? Is he really going to be facing Pearl, as Katya suspected? 

As Trixie mulls over these thoughts, he gets so distracted that he accidentally walks past the bathroom he was initially going to. 

He also fails to notice the hand coming out of the bathroom door until it grabs him by the elbow.

“... !”

Trixie is too stunned to physically resist as the anonymous arm easily drags him into the restroom, not violently, but not quite gently either. His heart is beating a thousand miles a minute as he finds himself backed to the tiled wall, but it calms down when he identifies the human attached to the grabby arm standing in front of him.

And it was, no drumrolls necessary, Katya. Who else would it be?

“Bitch! What kind of horror movie...?!” Trixie exclaims, shaking his arm to free it from Katya’s grip. He tries to play off the flush on his face as a symptom of surprise and anger, and not of his sudden proximity with Katya’s warm body crowding him against the wall, and hopes hard that it works.

“Shh!” Katya whispers. “You were just going to walk right past me, so I had to stop you somehow!”

“Seriously, who grabs people like this? What happened to ‘hey’ and ‘excuse me, young lady’?” Trixie glares, lowering his voice to match Katya’s hushed tones. 

“I considered it, but experience tells me you would have been spooked either way, so I went for efficiency,” Katya shrugs, not showing even an ounce of remorse.

“... Shut up,” Trixie whispers back indignantly, feeling the fake annoyance becoming a little real. “And why are we whispering, anyway?”

“Good question. Why are we whispering?” Katya repeats, instantly switching to regular speaking volume.

Trixie has to simultaneously suppress both an eye roll and a chuckle. How can someone be so testing and so endearing at the same time? “Anyway, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the others?”

“I was. But I wanted to see you, and since you’d left the hotel before I could get to you this morning, I had to find the right moment to make it happen. So I snuck away from the group to ambush you here.”

Trixie blinks. “Okay, psycho,” he says slowly, doing his best to ignore the warmth creeping back up his face. “What did you need to see me for, then?”

Katya takes a small step back, as if he had just noticed how they were breathing each other’s CO2 with how close they were. He then takes a long, deep breath, and exhales slowly. “I… I’ve got something to tell you. I woke up this morning with the deepest conviction that I _had_ to tell you today, so. Here I am. Telling you.”

“And you had to do it right here, right now? In a public bathroom, at God-knows-when in the morning?”

“Girl, when you’ve heard what you’re about to hear, you’ll be thankful I chose a camera-free time and place to spill the tea.”

Katya closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. When he opens them again, he’s looking straight into Trixie’s eyes. 

He’s never looked so serious.

“I know I’ve been ever so subtle about it,” Katya starts, “but you’ve been on my mind. A lot. And when I say subtle, I really mean I came onto you like an SUV in a toy parking lot. Yet you never saw it coming,” he adds with a smile as he clocks Trixie’s look of surprise. 

“The truth is,” he goes on, “I’ve been stupidly attracted to you ever since I first saw you. But if it had been just that, I would have made my move a long time ago, and we would’ve done the do, or we wouldn’t have, and we would have moved on. End of story. Although, to be fair, I did not _not_ make a move, but right before going for the kill, I realized that… somewhere along the way... I’d caught feels.”

If Trixie's face had felt a bit warm before, now it feels like his cheeks literally just caught fire. He wants to hide his face, but Katya puts both of his hands in his before he gets a chance to even move a finger.

After a small pause, Katya continues. “I was looking at you, and I still wanted to jump your bones, don’t get me wrong, but the urge to hold your hand and feed you cookies and knit matching scarves for us had become just as strong. You know? You were just so sweet and funny and lovely, but also really cute and attractive and sexy. The whole damn package. So I didn’t know what to do anymore.” 

Katya lightly squeezes Trixie’s hands and looks away. Trixie opens his mouth, feeling like he should probably take this chance to say something, but finds himself speechless. Which, in all honesty, doesn’t happen often… _except when Katya’s involved_ , his inner voice unhelpfully supplies, completely unsolicited.

“And you know what didn’t help me make a choice?” Katya continues, letting go of Trixie’s hands. “The context in which I met you. A TV show where we’re expected to compete mercilessly and pull our synthetic hairs and knock each other’s teeth out at every opportunity… But also a show I’ve been waiting _years_ to be casted for. So I was seriously questioning my priorities every day. Did I want you out of the competition so I could finally focus on winning, but risk losing the one person that made this old, rugged and rotted heart beat a full symphony for the first time in forever? Or did I want you to stay so I could enjoy your wonderful company for longer, at the risk of wasting an opportunity at a career I’ve been dedicating most of my adult life to?”

Katya takes another deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “Anyway, to put it simply… In a game of Marry, Fuck or Kill, you’ve been all three to me, and it’s been tearing me apart, Lisa.”

Trixie looks at Katya in silence, waiting for the moment when he’ll drop the act and burst out laughing with a _'I'm just joking, bitch!'_ , as per their usual banter.

But that moment never arrives. Katya keeps looking straight at him with the most honest eyes, soul bared, patiently waiting for his reaction.

Trixie has never been confessed to, before. Or at least, not like this. Some of his previous boyfriends had a romantic streak, but his relationships have always started by the book: a romantic dinner date, a hand holding at the cinema, a tipsy kiss at the bar… but in the bathroom of a TV studio? And with a person that, as he now realizes, has been his subconscious crush for the better part of a month? And who also happens to be a fellow drag queen? No, m’am. Everything about this situation is entirely new territory for Trixie, so he’ll just let Jesus take the wheel for this one. 

“Oh wow,” he starts, scrambling to find his next words. His brain is all over the place. “Well, if we’re really doing this, I might as well confess… You’ve kind of been on my mind, too. Like, to the point where you’ve been intruding in my dreams as well, which, rude much?” he tries to laugh, but it comes out squeaky and awkward. “Anyway, I’m really not good at this, but what I’m trying to say is…”

Trixie pauses, mouth still open. He still can’t find the words. And neither can Jesus, apparently.

But then, he remembers what his grandfather would say. _If you don’t know how to say it, just show it._

Gathering his courage and fighting all of his deep-seated bottom instincts, he puts his arms on Katya’s shoulders, leans forward and puts his lips on top of Katya’s in a firm kiss. He doesn’t usually initiate, and his heart seems dead set on beating out of its cage after this stunt, but... it feels _good_.

He pulls away after a few seconds, curious to see Katya’s reaction to his _bold_ endeavor, but he doesn’t have time to register anything except a blur of blue eyes as Katya swiftly chases his mouth to kiss him back, passionate and hungry, one of his arms snaking around his waist while the other firmly holds the back of his head.

Trixie’s mind positively _explodes_ as his body gets pushed against the wall - he can’t think, he can only _feel_ , and what he’s feeling is _glorious_ . It’s butterflies, it’s rainbows, but it’s also pure carnal pleasure. Even Katya’s nicotine breath somehow makes everything even hotter… _Wait, nicotine?_

Katya suddenly breaks the kiss and looks at Trixie with an indescribable expression on his face. They’re both breathing hard, their brains only just catching up with how oxygen-deprived they are. Katya’s pupils are blown so big that Trixie can see himself reflected in their black depths.

"Do you believe in prophetic dreams?" Katya suddenly asks.

Trixie blinks, surprised. He isn't sure where that question came from, but if he was being perfectly honest...

"I think I might..." Trixie replies shyly. He barely has the time to get the words out before Katya dives in for another deep kiss.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Katya asks after they break off again, breathless. He doesn’t wait for an answer before peppering Trixie’s face and neck with small kisses, making him giggle.

_“She didn’t!” a distant voice squeals._

_“I swear…” another voice replies with a laugh._

Trixie suddenly stops moving as his ears tune in to the voices coming from the corridor. The first person sounded suspiciously like Jaidynn, but he couldn’t accurately place who the second voice belonged to. They sounded like they were at least a few yards away, but going by the growing footsteps, they were definitely approaching their current location.

He looks at Katya, who has also stopped moving and seems to have come to the same conclusion. “I think we should wrap this up before the gossip hound sniffs us out…”

“Uh huh,” Trixie replies, still a bit dazed. “But what are we going to do about these?” he asks, looking down at their respective bulges. Lil’ Trix was _ready to go_.

“Oh, I’ve taught mine to behave on command. Look,” Katya says, and Trixie watches in wonder as the front of his jeans immediately smoothes down. “Don’t look so surprised. If I couldn’t do that, I would have been walking around with a semi in every room you happened to be in. Not a great look for the cameras.”

He winks at Trixie, who blushes pathetically. “Do you have to be so blunt all the time? What happened to gentlemanly courtship and serenades?”

Katya wheezes out a laugh. “Honey, I know you’re young, pure and innocent, but come on. And by the way, if you need help with your situation, I would love nothing more than to assist,” he adds coyly, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh my god, stay away!” Trixie half-laughs half-whispers, slapping Katya's hand away as it was already making its way to his zipper. “It’ll settle on its own if given enough time. I’ll just… chill in one of the stalls for a while. That’s what I came here for initially, anyway, before I was so uncouthly interrupted,” he pouts, crossing his arms and fighting off a smile, struggling to keep a straight face.

Katya doesn’t reply immediately - he just watches him with shiny eyes and a goofy smile, as if he was looking at a pet rabbit. 

“What?” Trixie asks defensively.

“You are way too adorable for your own good, you know that? That’s why I can never leave you alone.“

Trixie gives him an embarrassed smile and flushes even redder, if that was even possible. “Well you’ll have to if you want us to get out of here with our dignity intact. You go first - I’ll wait in one of the stalls and follow later.”

“Or, I can _stall_ them while you finish up in there,” Katya winks.

“Get out of here!” Trixie laughs, pushing Katya towards the door.

Katya is still giving him a sappy smile as he walks out of the bathroom and silently mouths “I’ll call you!” with a cheesy phone-to-ear hand gesture before disappearing around the corner.

Trixie is smiling to himself when he enters one of the stalls, as per their barely established “plan”.

And now, we wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! ♥️  
> English is not my native language, and this text has not been beta'd, but hopefully I did OK and this is a somewhat enjoyable read. If you like it, please do leave a comment or a kudo (or both)! It would truly make my day to hear from you ☺️


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